Blood on My Hands
by paper-mate2
Summary: This is my first fanfic where Max's body is invaded by someone all too familiar. R&R PLEASE. Ch 3 is up and more 2 come. . .
1. Chapter 1

I stood with my hands hanging grimly at my sides, only vaguely aware that my normally close-bit nails were growing into sharp, deadly claws. Unprovoked anger bottled up inside me until I thought I would burst, blotting out every other emotion or thought except for my newly sharpened senses.

Basically, I felt as if I was in the suspended state of being wrenched out of sleep by a particularly high-pitched alarm clock; everything was sharp and intense after the gentleness of a dream world. The ridges in the stone walls that surrounded me were distinct despite the dull light. I was aware of each drop of sweat mixed with dirty water that trickled slowly down my face and the sound of distant tennis shoes on the hard ground shrieked in my ears painfully.

I blinked my now wolfish eyes and the flock appeared. They stood against the slightly moist wall and even in my current state I could see Angel's eyes, glassy with worry and repressed tears. Nudge, too, appeared to be struggling: her jaw was positioned back tightly the way she had held it trying to learn spelling words during our brief stint at school. Fang had completely dropped his mask of indifference and his face was streaked with concern.

With every fiber of my being I wanted to run to them, to tell them that it was all going to be alright—even if I didn't know that for sure. Eraser Max, who used to taunt me from mirrors, had other plans. She and the hatred I now recognized as hers seeped into my soul, staining it forever. Somehow she had taken hold of my body, leaving only a tiny bit of _me _left. I could feel myself lunge powerfully at Iggy. It was a blow meant to hurt and it took Iggy completely by surprise. _She_ had done it. Eraser Max was in control of my body. Of course this would happen to me. Who else would have a deadly half-wolf version of themselves try to take over their body?

My own hands, complete with pointed claws, scratched Iggy again and again. Blood rushed out of his cuts, covering his pale face with lipstick-red blood. I could sense Eraser Max's sick pleasure as she watched Iggy struggle and the life drain of out his bright blue eyes.

The part of me left in my body _burned_. I had been through hell with Iggy (School) and came out alive. He was my brother and he had died by my own clawed hands. Sure, Iggy had gotten to me sometimes with his tendency to detonate bombs at exactly the wrong time (or the right one) and the way he teased me about my barely edible cooking, but I loved him. Now he was gone and nothing would change that—not to mention that his last few moments had probably convinced him that I was a complete traitor.

Now Eraser Max advanced on the others and killed the only people on the Earth that I had really loved using _my _body. (I like to ignore the fact that I used to love Jeb. Too bad that she didn't kill _him_ instead.) Watching this was a billion-trillion-million-infinity times worse than any horror movie Iggy and Gazzy had ever begged to see. Watching their beautiful eyes cloud over and hearing their strong, quick mutant heartbeats slow and finally stop altogether could have killed me. It could have. And yet it didn't, and that was the worst part.

It wasn't until my own hands wrenched the life from Fang that I felt as if the entire **world** was empty and hollow, devoid of meaning beyond sorrow. He was the only one who didn't fight back. He barely winced as my claws sliced through his otherwise perfect skin. The little that was left of Maximum Ride silently begged him to fight. I remembered asking him if he would stop me if he needed to. He had promised, but I had always known he wouldn't, that he _couldn't_ . . . and now he was proving that. I gave him an especially vicious cut and he looked into my eyes like he used to so often, as if he could see straight through my soul. His face was calm, serene, and most of all, undeservedly forgiving. As the light faded from his dark, penetrating eyes, a final whisper died on his flawless lips.

"I loved you, Max…"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: OK so hi! I just wanted you to know that this is set somewhere after the first book // a little into the second.**

**Please R&&R!!!**

**CH 2 of Blood on my Hands (overly dramatic music)**

I woke up feeling as if I had just surfaced from the water. This sensation was not only created by my tears that made my sleeping bag slick and damp but also by my fast shallow breaths and shaky hands. I was comforted by the fact that my shaky hands were not shaky _clawed _hands, just my usual hands with nails that I had chewed down so that only a sliver of white protruded past my fingertips.

I rolled over to where Nudge was sleeping heavily beside me and felt her face gently for any wounds. I found no blood and my fingers grazed no deep claw-induced gashes, which proves that the hell I had just been through was nothing more than an indescribably horrible and overly gory nightmare.

This was hard to believe because of the extreme vividness of my "dream" and the fact that having an evil version of myself take over my body and murder the only people in the world I would do _anything _to protect seemed like just the sort of idea that the white coats would enjoy thinking up and later executing. But, hey, I'm not complaining that my literally worst nightmare hadn't been true. Infact, I was ecstatic, but that didn't stop the tears from coming fast and furious, because even though I lay by the unharmed and _alive_ flock, everything had seemed so real.

The images of Iggy's blood stained face and Angel's terrified expression were still plastered in my mind. I was trying desperately to shrug these memories off when I heard a rustle in the bushes behind me.

That's right. . . I remembered now. Fang and I had chosen the thick forest of central Michigan as a rest place for the flock tonight. I quickly wiped the tears from my face with one hand and planted the other in the dirt as I readied myself for an intruder.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Fang's POV**

I had second watch and was staring up past the branches that stretched out above me to watch the stars when I heard sobs back where the rest of the flock was sleeping. Usually I'm the kind of guy who leaves people alone and lets them sort out their own problems, but who ever this was obviously needed some major comforting and besides what if it was Max. . .

I stopped my thoughts right there.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N ok on my profile I said I would have an update by Tuseday-ish and today is Tuesday so… here is my update. Oh and I keep forgetting to put a disclaimer so lets just say this counts for all the other chapters .**

**DISCLAIMER: none of the characters in this story are mine. I wish fang was mine but. . .he isn't (dangflabit)**

**Argh dangflabit isn't a word in the dictionary. Oh well. **

**CH 3 of Blood on my Hands**

**Fang's POV**

I stood slowly and brushed the clinging leaves from my jeans. I walked back to the others through the overgrown brush. It occurred to me that leaving my position as watch probably wasn't the best idea, but I couldn't let one of the flock be alone while they were obviously upset. When I came within feet on the camp site I noticed that the sobs had stopped and I was in the midst of dead silence.

Following the snap of a twig a dark figure lunged out of nowhere and knocked me back against the ground. The impact forced the air out of my lungs and I was left gasping on the ground, but after only moments I had forced myself up and into fighting stance. I was focusing on the figure's barely defined outline and prepared to fight when moonlight hit streaked blond hair.

**Max's POV (A/N sorry if I screw up the dialogue grammar, I really suck at it.)**

"Max, stop! It's me Fang."

"Fang? What are you doing here? I was ready to knock your lights out!"

"I was- hey! I was so going to beat you." I snickered a little as my horrible dream seamed to slip away into a vague memory.

"Yeah . . . sure, answer the question anyways."

"Oh right," he seemed satisfied with my unconvincing lie that he could beat me. "I heard someone cry and, well, it had to be one of us. I mean, who else camps out in the Michigan woods and then has a melt down in the middle of the night?"

I toyed with telling him the truth. Hmmm quick mental list of pros and cons. . . . the deciding factor was the dream might be, well, more than a dream in the future. For all you non-plagued-by-evil scientists readers out there I will translate this sentence. What I am trying to say (and failing at) is that say scientists are monitoring my dreams and witnessed that wonderfully evil plan. They might then actually put it into action by kidnapping us, implanting something in my brain, and then reenacting it. Now this is an entirely hypothetical situation, but really given the history of my relationship with the evil scientists mentioned above, entirely possible. So, I spilled.

"Oh, my god," Fang said in response. His tone of mild dismay meant that others in the flock would practically keel over if told.

"Yep," I said, trying to sound normal. (I had conveniently left out the whole scene where Fang tells me he loves me as he dies because somehow I thought that may make things semi-complicated.)

**A/N ok another really really short chapter and I don't really like this one. It's kind of, I don't know, not in character or something in that ball park. Anyways if you have suggestions or comments I'll try to change it. R&&R please!!!! And thank you sooo much to anyone who already has. – papermate2**


End file.
